


Molten:Part Two

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: A tiny dash of hurt/comfort, Also I don’t know how FBI stuff works, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Flirty Will Graham, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is in fact a sap, Hannibal and Will work together, Implied Sexual Content, Just winging it here, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, OOC Hannibal, Pre-book: Red Dragon, Sexual Tension, and do not get much actual work done, dont let the suit and sass fool you, i feel like his personality is leaning toward the non-cannibal type lol, i spent too much time on these tags, literally decided that au right now, obviously, pls dont judge my lack of knowledge lol, warning for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: “This isn’t very professional of you, Agent Graham,” Hannibal mumbled.“Fuck you, Doctor Lecter,” Will shot back, side of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.Hannibal slid his fingers over Will’s neck, dipping beneath his collar to feel the space where his teeth had been. “Is that a promise?”





	Molten:Part Two

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write and the comments I got for the first of these little fics were so kind. I didn’t expect people to like that fic as much, as I’m writing based on the book and not the TV show. So thank you guys for the support! :3
> 
> Hannibal’s character in this prompted me to make this an au where he is, in fact, not a cannibal. I knew he was going to be out of character when i started, but as i wrote, i realized i was already imagining him as being the psychiatrist Will had thought him to be, still inhuman in some traits, but not to the extent of killing. So I decided to make that official with this one. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy reading and leave a comment if you liked it! I love hearing from you. <3
> 
> PS! Since italics on here is still acting real glitchy with my works, i started using slashes to show where my italics were. I wanted the emphasis to come across and have more breaks for thoughts :)

The meeting was taking /forever/. And it wasn’t even worth the time. Yes, it had begun as a discussion of the recent findings of prints at the crime scene, and yes, they had agreed on a course of action after that, but now? Now they were all just sitting around a table while some doctor tried to convince them that his profile of the killer was the correct one.

Hannibal found the entire situation more amusing than anything else. He’d considered leaving a few times earlier, but Will had to stay; and like a kid with a pathetic crush, Hannibal stayed too.

Will was slouched in a chair, finger tapping out an absent rhythm on the tabletop. If looks could kill, Dr. Chilton would have dropped dead by now.

It had been a day since Will had come clean to him. Hannibal still found it difficult to believe that the agent actually returned his affections. Even though he’d seen it in their time together, it was still transient to him, sand that could slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful. Will had gotten past his defenses and indifference, and now Hannibal was utterly entangled with him.

To the point that he would listen while this idiot babbled just to be able to sit across the table from Will.

Chilton droned on, saying something about footprints and weapon choice. With an almost imperceptible sigh, Will’s eyes slid over to Hannibal, half-lidded with boredom. Finding Hannibal already watching him, Will arched a brow, the corner of his mouth turning up.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in reply and mouthed, /you okay?/

/No/, Will returned, and Hannibal chuckled to himself. Then Will shifted in his chair, bringing a hand up to fidget with the top of his shirt. Hannibal’s gaze fixed onto Will’s fingers, scratching just beneath the collar. Will let his hand stray, brushing over a reddened mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Inhaling a calming breath, Hannibal looked back up at Will’s face. There was a smirky curve to his lips and a spark in those blue eyes.

Hannibal leaned his folded arms on the table and met Will’s gaze head-on. Tipping his head as though to say /that all you got?/ he waited for Will’s next move. Smiling now, Will reached for the notepad Crawford had left on the table and a pen next to it. Hannibal watched curiously as Will scribbled something down. “Number for that witness,” he said with a glance toward Chilton, passing the note across the table.

Dr. Chilton, bless his soul, he only paused once to smile understandably. “Of course, Agent Graham. Now, as I was saying—”

Hannibal took the notebook from the tabletop with a sly glance at Will. Tugging at his collar, Will ran his fingers across the mark at his neck again, a challenge in his movements. Hannibal looked down at the note.

 

/Leave more on me next time./

 

Something coiled up inside of Hannibal, something burning and breathless. He met Will’s gaze again and this time, the sizzle of tension between them was near-palpable. /Where?/ Hannibal asked silently.

Will let out a shaky exhale. /All over./

Christ. Hannibal tried his damndest not to think about Will laid out under him, claiming him with teeth in his skin. It was intolerable to think about during a meeting. He already knew what Will looked like when he was kissed breathless, the way his body felt against Hannibal’s when he was pushed up against a door. /All right, this train of thought is not helping in the slightest./

He looked to Will again. The look Will gave him was /molten,/ and he caught his lower lip between his teeth. Bastard. Well, two could play at that game. Sitting against the back of his chair, Hannibal locked eyes with Will until the agent seemed to recognize that he was to pay attention. Slowly, Hannibal let his gaze drop to Will’s mouth, then his neck, his collarbones. Down the line of buttons over his chest and stomach, and stopping when the table blocked his view. Then he trailed his eyes back up again with all the smugness of a wolf catching his prey. Will was noticeably flushed and his hands shook the slightest bit, as though he’d felt Hannibal’s eyes on him like a physical touch. Wetting his lips, he fished in his pocket for his cell phone. Hannibal watched him text in interest and waited for his phone to vibrate.

 

/After work today? /

 

The side of Hannibal’s mouth quirked up.

 

/What do you mean? /

 

/You know exactly what I mean, you ass. /

 

/I'm afraid I don’t, Will, perhaps you should remind me. /

 

Will didn’t even grant that statement the satisfaction of a response, besides an exaggerated eye-roll. A twinge of odd affection passed through Hannibal’s chest and he decided to take it easy on him.

 

/Would you like to take a drive with me after the meeting? /

 

Will shot him a pointed glance.

 

/What kind of a drive? /

 

/The kind that ends in me taking you home. / He could watch Will’s breath catch, the way he swallowed hard afterward.

 

/Crawford wanted us to check out the pictures of the crime scene again, see if there’s anything backing up Chilton’s weapon-footprint shit. /

 

/You know that’ll lead nowhere/.

 

/And you know that there’s a chance the moron is right. You thought of it too, didn’t you?/

 

Ugh. Hannibal had, but that was besides the point. /Fine. Meet me in my office then?/

 

Will didn’t reply that time, save for a crooked smile from across the table.

 

 

XXxxxxxxXX

 

 

Hannibal’s office wasn’t actually his office. It was a room loaned to him at the FBI headquarters where they were working while on this case. The walls and desk were lined with pictures and files, shelves holding stacks of some of Hannibal’s books. Hannibal filed into the room behind Will and the tension left him with a sigh as the door closed. Being here, in a secluded area with only Will, left him feeling more at ease than he could remember. The only person who had truly understood him was here, and better than that, he was Hannibal’s now. Only his.

He watched as Will approached the desk and splayed his fingers across a photo. “This is the one I remembered,” he said. “Dr. Chilton pointed out that the weapon used in this house had to be heavy, something bulky. One of the footprints here is deeper than the other, and they’re offset from each other. It’s not the way they were at the other houses.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, attention momentarily snagged by the information. “Why would he carry something that heavy to murder a family?”

“I don’t know.” Crossing his arms, Will gazed down into the pictures as though he’d seen the bloodstains paint the walls himself. There was a deep intensity to his eyes that told Hannibal, he was seeing it in his mind, walking himself through the murder. Hannibal found that he was holding his breath. He’d known that Will had an uncanny ability to see through a person’s eyes, as though he could experience their emotions and motives himself. Even those of murderers.Hannibal knew it disturbed Will, but privately, he was fascinated by it. Watching Will work was like watching a symphony come together.

Hannibal glanced down at the case files again. Another picture caught his eye: the mother, her back put on display and covered in broken, beyond bruising skin. But the main attack had been aimed at her front, a blow to the forehead finally killing her. /He turned her over./

“It’s for show!”

Hannibal and Will both exclaimed it at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise. Hannibal blinked. “Are you talking about the marks on—?”

“—her back /and/ front?”

“The way there are fewer at her back and—”

“—the choice of something huge for a weapon.”

“How easily he’s flawlessly gotten away with the other families—”

“—is making him feel cocky enough to show off.” Will was grinning now, that lopsided, lively grin that he wore when he could feel himself getting closer to a break. “He’s getting proud,” he concluded. “That’s when they start to get messy.” He gazed down at the photos with a new understanding.

The fact that Will had come to the same finding as Hannibal left a warmth in Hannibal’s chest. It was indescribably sappy, and embarrassing, and wonderful.

“We still need to figure out what the hell that weapon was,” Will muttered, as though talking to himself. When he crossed his arms, the collar of his shirt shifted and a glimpse of the marked skin flashed.

Suddenly miles away from the case, Hannibal crossed the room to stand beside Will. He feigned interest in scanning over the papers below. But he could practically feel Will’s body tense with the knowledge of their closeness. Innocently, Hannibal leaned over to point to a picture and pressed his free hand into the small of Will’s back. “Have you considered the possibility of—?”

“Stop it,” Will said on a laugh, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will gave him a flat look and stepped away until Hannibal’s hand fell from his back. “I’m talking about you trying to—” He broke off suddenly, a tinge of pink in his cheeks.

It was beyond adorable. Taking a few slow steps toward him, Hannibal cocked his head. “Stop trying to what?”

“You know /exactly/ what you’re doing,” Will accused, backing up around the corner of the table as Hannibal advanced on him.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Agent Graham, perhaps you could explain better?” Hannibal asked, taking on a garish impression of Dr. Chilton. That had Will laughing, that lovely laugh that Hannibal adored. It gave him a window to catch Will off-guard and rush him.

“Shit—wait!” Will stuttered over his words, stumbling back, and almost tripping over his own feet.

Hannibal caught him with an arm around the waist and pulled him in close, chest to chest. There was a bit of a struggle from Will, a halfhearted push at Hannibal’s shoulders. “You should be thanking me,” Hannibal pointed out mildly. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have fallen.”

“Yeah, you’re a real saint,” Will scoffed. He gave Hannibal another shove in the chest, enough to jostle him but not throw him off. “You’re the reason I fell in the first place.”

“No need to remind me.” Hannibal held Will ever closer, wanting to feel his heartbeat racing against his chest. “I’m well aware of how you fell for me.”

“/Oh my god,” /Will groaned, dropping his head onto Hannibal’s shoulder. “That was so /cheesy/, Jesus.”

Hannibal nosed at Will’s hair, breathing in his scent and sighing. “But you love it.”

Will gave a noncommittal hum at that, but nuzzled farther into Hannibal’s shoulder. Turning his head, he rested there, breath tickling the skin of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal’s mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “Will,” he murmured, and he’d intended to go on, but Will made the smallest noise at his name and leaned into him more. And well, Hannibal briefly forgot how to speak.

“Is this bad?” Will asked quietly.

Hannibal’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You and me. Being…together, investigating a serial killer.” Will’s voice was flat. “Is it bad that we’re letting ourselves be so distracted?”

Hannibal ran a hand up Will’s back to his neck and traced along the ridges of his spine there. “I feel that we work well together, like this,” he ventured. “But if you believed it to be too much, I would respect that.” He only received an unconvinced grunt in reply. He reached up to nudge up Will’s chin cautiously. “What do /you/ want?”

Will gazed at him, jaw tight, and Hannibal braced himself. Then Will’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t trust what I want,” he admitted.

“You don’t think it’s the best option for us.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to be with me, Will. Not if this would distract you.”

“I /want/ to be distracted by you.” Tipping forward, Will leaned his forehead against Hannibal’s and closed his eyes. He almost looked pained. “You’re different…from them,” he said softly. “I wanna lose myself in you.”

The want to kiss him was so powerful, Hannibal had to grit his teeth to restrain himself. “If it’s too much right now,” he replied, “we can wait.”

After a long pause, Will gave a small nod. Chest tight, but accepting his decision, Hannibal took a step back. But the moment he loosened his hold, Will pressed forward, kissing him softly. Hannibal blinked in surprise, but Will had him by the tie and he honestly didn’t have much fight in him right now anyway. He leaned into it, closing his eyes, drowning slowly. “Thought you wanted to wait,” he breathed against Will’s mouth.

Will mumbled a /no/, winding his arms around Hannibal’s neck. “Don’t care,” he muttered, and Hannibal’s lips curved into a smile.

Will ran a hand through Hannibal’s hair at the back of his head, letting it flutter between his fingers like black feathers. The kiss had started out chaste, but now it grew, barely parting from each other, small gasps between them. “This isn’t very professional of you, Agent Graham,” Hannibal mumbled into it.

“Fuck you, Doctor Lecter,” Will shot back, side of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Hannibal slid his fingers over Will’s neck, dipping beneath his collar to feel the space where his teeth had been. “Is that a promise?”

“If you’re lucky,” Will returned, but it came out breathless.

Hannibal’s response was biting down on Will’s bottom lip, fingers bunching up the back of his shirt. Will gave a soft little moan, completely involuntary, and Hannibal felt like a struck match. “Come home with me,” he breathed.

His nails scraped across Will’s back through his shirt and Will arched into him. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“What do you want?”

Will shook his head again in a no, but he tilted his head to let Hannibal’s mouth press at the pulse point under his jaw.

“I know what you shouldn’t do, Will.” Hannibal could feel how fast Will’s heart raced, and when he ran his tongue over his skin, he felt it jump. “What do you /want/ to do?”

Will growled low in his throat, and Hannibal was barely able to bite back his moan. “Wanna get you out of that damn suit.”

Will’s hands tightened in Hannibal’s hair until he felt a delicious burn across his scalp. Everything was suddenly too hot, confining, the room around them, the layers beneath Hannibal’s jacket, Will’s heavy breaths, this heart in Hannibal’s ribcage—

Dr. Chilton blundered down the hall and wrenched open the door with a cheery, “Dr. Lecter! Dr. Lecter!”

Will jumped away from Hannibal so fast, he almost toppled over, and Hannibal had a third of a second to smooth back his hair. They both turned to face the doctor with carefully innocent faces. Hannibal pulled it off better, looking mildly interested while Will just looked downright pissed.

Luckily, Dr. Chilton was so excited, he didn’t seem to notice a thing. He scurried up to Hannibal with papers clutched in his grasp, wanting to compare his notes to some work that Hannibal had had published a few weeks ago. Hannibal felt himself sag slightly. /I guess we’ll have to wait after all./

He glanced over at Will, who was gazing at him heatedly, somehow sharp and soft all at once.

 

 

XxxxxxxxX

 

 

Will was not an idiot and he knew /exactly/ what he was doing at Hannibal Lecter’s house.

‘/Oh, Will, I have to research some things in the case file and I thought your opinion would be valuable—’ yeah, bullshit, Lecter./ But he listened patiently, and nodded along, and judging by the carefully blank expression on his face, Hannibal knew damn well what was going on too.

So why the /fuck/ was this taking so long?

“I was thinking about something Dr. Chilton had said, about the markings on the bodies being similar to those of the back end of an ax,” the doctor went on, selecting a slip of paper from the case file and holding it up to the light. “Crawford mentioned a similarity as well, on a different date, and it might be something to look into.”

Leaning a shoulder on the doorframe at the library entrance, Will just offered up a bored look. “Yeah. I’ll ask about it tomorrow.”

“The footprints could be explained by a possible limp as well…”

“Fascinating.”

“Perhaps I could….” Trailing off, Hannibal scanned over the file again, eyes narrowed and head tipped to one side. Will studied him quietly from across the room. Still wearing a suit—Hannibal overdressed for every occasion possible, but Will sure as hell didn’t mind. This one was classic black, trim at the waist and complimenting his lean form. He wasn’t wearing a tie and the first two buttons of his shirt were open.

He was standing beside the bookshelves, and Will remembered with sharp clarity being so close to Hannibal next to those shelves that he could feel his body heat.

He was across the room before he even realized it.

“Will, what—?”

“Shut up,” Will snapped, and he kissed him, reckless, pinning Hannibal back against the first shelf.There was a stumble to Hannibal’s steps, a minute gasp, but he recovered quickly. He tilted into Will and brought a hand up to touch his jaw gently. Will practically felt himself /melt,/ and dammit, Hannibal was getting the better of him again. He molded his body to Hannibal’s, feeling the press of their chests, legs, hips, and now Hannibal let out a wanting sound from the back of his throat. Victory lit Will on fire and he pulled back to admire the heat in those wine-colored eyes.

“Why’re we still talking about this murderer?”

Hannibal had to take a moment to find his voice. “Because it’s our jobs.”

“Smartass,” Will muttered, and Hannibal flashed an amused half-smile. Then Will shifted to lean their foreheads together. “I meant why aren’t you—” He realized he couldn’t quite say it.

“Why am I what?” Hannibal asked, patient, imploring.

Will tilted his head into the touch of Hannibal’s thumb stroking his cheek. “We can be like this,” he ventured, smoothing his hands over Hannibal’s chest to feel his heartbeat. “And the last time I was here, you told me you wanted to—” He broke off, turning a little pink around the ears.

Hannibal hummed, a confirming and weakened noise, and brushed their noses together. He didn't tease or try to embarrass; he listened and waited. Something in Will, that he didn't know had been carefully tense, unwound. 

“But when we’re here like this, you don't seem to want to go further,” he continued. He cupped the back of Hannibal’s neck, fingers slipping into his hair and rubbing back and forth. “Which is fine, that's okay, um. I’m just…confused.”

Sighing, Hannibal glanced down and away. It was a painfully shy gesture and Will’s heart swelled. “I'm sending you conflicting signals,” Hannibal concluded, as though reprimanding himself.

“A bit.”

“Yes, a bit.” Hannibal’s mouth tilted up into a smile. He ran his fingertips lightly down Will’s back. “I assure you, Will, I very much want to… ‘go further.’” His fingers dug into Will’s hips through his slacks and Will had to banish the multitude of burning images that swept through his mind then. The want in Hannibal’s eyes was enough to make him weak in the knees.

“Then what’s wrong?” Will asked.

“We haven’t really defined what this is.”

“This? You mean you and me?”

“Yes…”

“I think it's called a relationship,” Will laughed, and he received an amused eye-roll in response. “What do you mean?”

Hannibal opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was ridiculous to think of the put-together psychiatrist behaving bashfully, of all things, but Will could see it in his face. “I think, as terribly cliche as this is about to sound,” Hannibal began slowly, “that I would like to hear you…say it.”

“Hear me say it?”

“Yes.”

“Hannibal,” Will laughed. “When you asked how long I’d been—in love with you—” The words were still new and breathless in his mouth. “—and I answered, I kinda figured you knew what that meant.”

“Well, of course. But it can be nice to—oh God, this sounds terrible, doesn’t it?” He dragged a hand over his eyes with a groan, as Will started laughing again.

“You are a such a /sap/,” Will chuckled, giving Hannibal a good-humored push in the shoulder. “Never thought you’d be that type.”

Hannibal cocked an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh? And what type did you think I’d be?”

“The type that doesn’t like shitty Hallmark-movie love confessions.”

“A few nights ago, you didn’t think I was the cooking type either.”

“That’s hardly my fault.”

“Or maybe it just means you’re not very skilled at reading people.”

“I’m going to take that as a personal insult to my skills.”

“Your choice.”

Will pushed him again andHannibal laughed now too, a bright, beautiful sound. Then he tipped his head down, playing coy and looking at Will through his lashes. “So is there anything else you’ve gotten wrong about me then?” he asked, dangerously close to a purr and it set Will alight.

“Well, I never thought you would shove someone up against a door,” Will admitted, a husky note entering his voice.

The inches between them were electrified.

“No?”

“N—no.” Will didn’t mean to trip over the word, but Hannibal had kissed the corner of his mouth. Now he moved to Will’s jaw, making a small /go on/ noise. Will let out a rough exhale. “I didn’t think you would leave marks on me,” he went on. “Or want to.” Hannibal pressed his fingers into the reddened skin of Will’s shoulder, enough to cause a dull, reminding ache. Will dropped his head forward onto Hannibal’s shoulder. His voice came out slightly hoarse now. “Didn’t think you'd want me.”

Hannibal’s answering grin brushed over Will’s jugular. “Interesting. Anything else?”

“Didn't think you’d do this to me.”

“Do what to you?”

Hannibal’s mouth was hot on Will’s neck, tongue and teeth and torture. “Make me a mess,” he whimpered.

Hannibal fisted a hand in Will’s shirt and his knuckles dragged over Will’s side in lines of flame. “Will.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

But Will’s next words were cut off when Hannibal lost his patience and kissed him. It was forceful, desperate, hardly pausing for air. Hannibal spun them around, putting Will’s back to the bookshelves. The spines knocked into his shoulder blades and Will felt a thrum of pleasure at being handled roughly by the ever-polite doctor. As if on cue, Hannibal murmured an apology into Will’s mouth and it made something in Will unravel.

“Tell me,” Hannibal repeated on a ragged breath.

“Hannibal—”

“/Will./”

Will felt hands in his hair, carding through it, and rubbing wonderful circles into his scalp. He tilted into it with a moan. “Shit, I’m so in love with you,” he gasped.

There was the smallest of pauses as Hannibal drank in the words. Then he was tugging at Will’s shirt, pulling him from the bookshelves, and backing toward the door. Will’s heartbeat was rushing against his ribs. “What’re you—?”

“I need to know if you’re sure about this.” Hannibal suddenly took Will’s chin and slid his thumb over his lips. His eyes were autumn-dark and deep. “Because to wake up tomorrow with you gone would hurt me more than you know.”

It took courage to say such a thing, laying himself open, and Will knew it. The implications behind the statement and the raw emotion in Hannibal’s face left him shivering. Hannibal’s thumb still played across his lips and Will let it nudge his mouth open, biting down softly. His eyes never left Hannibal’s, bright, searing blue, and he heard the choked off whine in Hannibal tried to hold back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Will rasped, and Hannibal dragged him toward the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m hoping to write more for these two soon, and if there’s anything you’d like to read, I’m open to ideas c: Thanks for reading!


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